


blood in your fabric

by ArcadeGhostAdventurer



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Manipulation, Possessive!Tony, Serial Killer!Steve, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, and couldn't age, i wrote this fic for myself but you can read it too i guess, murder au that no one asked for, not as dark!fic as it sounds, possessive!Steve, what if Steve never went into ice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:01:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22149094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcadeGhostAdventurer/pseuds/ArcadeGhostAdventurer
Summary: Somewhere in his peripheral vision, Ty tried to break free first, then he tried to call for help, then choked in that uncontrollable way people did in the movies. The periodic thump, the crunch of the hits got wet, squelching.Oh God, he’s going to kill Ty, Tony thought. But he couldn’t bring himself to care.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 49
Kudos: 240





	blood in your fabric

**Author's Note:**

> So one day I was sitting in my room, reading dark!fic, as you do, an thought to myself... Ok but what if? What if Steve never went into ice but couldn't die either. How would that affect him? And this fic was born. I loved it at first, then I kind of didn't. Then I said, who cares. And oh, this fic looks at canon and yeets it to Mars. Yes.
> 
> My first time writing something so long, so if you see mistakes, please scream out of your window about them. I promise I hear it all. Dear Anna, (the butthole one), did check some of it, then I got bored.
> 
> Still, I hope you enjoy it and gimmi one comment. I eat the comments. Thanks.
> 
> !!! EXTRA WARNINGS IN DETAIL !!!  
> There is a sexual assault scene, not detailed, in the very beginning but Steve stops it before it goes through. You can skip until the first cut to avoid that. There are also several descriptions of injury, blood, vomiting and violence. There is one description of a mass shooting in a hospital, not in detail but still, it's there. Please note this fic also doesn't have the healthiest relationship between Tony and Steve but it's my fic and I do what I want I guess.   
> \--- --- ---

There was only one thought in his head, turning round and round, but I didn’t even drink that much.

Even though Tony was so out of it, he could still hear the music playing through the walls. People chatting and laughing, muffled but still there, a reminder that anyone could walk in on them, Ty and him. Just a single raised voice and someone could barge in. He wished so much that someone would barge in, headlines be damned. 

Ty’s breath was sour on his face, hands uncoordinated as they ran over his body, pushing his clothing aside with a single minded determination that said I don’t care about your body, I get what I want, I want you humiliated.

He wanted to lift his head, to push him away. But his head bobbed up and down with Ty’s manhandling, hitting and scraping against the asphalt against his will. His hands felt like static, his legs didn’t listen to him. What did you give me, you motherfucker. Tony wanted to scream but his mouth just leaked more vomit and spit against his will. I’m going to choke and die, Tony thought, I’m going to die with my pants down in an alley. His head swam.

The music bloomed in a crescendo for a second. A door forcefully shut. Ty was suddenly gone, a sudden burst of cold air filling the place he vacated. Tony wanted to curl up against it, with Ty’s body suddenly gone, but his body refused to budge. 

Elvis Presley’s deep, calm voice spilled out from the lounge and the blanketing noise was welcome as someone periodically thumped away at Ty's flesh. Tony felt a vindictive righteousness at Ty’s face getting ruined. 

Tony wanted to turn, but he couldn’t move. The asphalt under his face got gradually damper with warm blood trickling in. Somewhere in his mind he knew this was a lot of blood. Too much blood. 

He heaved soundlessly but there was nothing else to puke in his stomach. Somewhere in his peripheral vision, Ty tried to break free first, then he tried to call for help, then choked in that uncontrollable way people did in the movies. The periodic thump, the crunch of the hits got wet, squelching. 

Oh God, he’s going to kill Ty, Tony thought. But he couldn’t bring himself to care.

\---

Tony woke up to an unfamiliar, empty flat with his eyes crusted and mouth sour. He slowly dragged himself upright on the bare mattress he was on; memories of last night trying to make a come back, take over his mind.

Tony pushed them down. For now.

He checked his pocket to find his phone and wallet untouched. 27 missed calls from Obie. He’d deal with that in a minute.

He looked around. The apartment was barren, other than the mattress. However it wasn’t dusty in a way that one would expect from an empty house. Someone had been living here. He got up and peeked through the open door to another room, a bathroom. There were still fresh droplets on the shower curtain. Tony turned the tap open. The water flowed clear. He washed his face, his mouth, then took a drink. The cool,stale water did little to settle the queasy feeling in his stomach. His head still swam.

He checked the premises, using the tail of his shirt to open the doors. The two other rooms were covered in dust, as was expected from an empty flat. He didn’t walk into them, there was nothing in them that he wanted. Tony turned back to the room where the mattress was. Looked at the doorknob, the window latches, anywhere that would require touch. Rubbed clean. 

Nothing but a mattress in the room. 

Tony lifted it from one side gingerly. Under the mattress was slightly dampened from use, without a bed base to allow air circulation. There were patches of black rubbed off on the off white exterior, especially on the sides. Dust? Soot? Charcoal? Something else? Tony couldn’t be sure. 

He let the mattress flop back down onto the floor, sat down and took out his phone. Someone probably had found Ty already. He had probably been in bad shape. And Obie knew… He knew Ty and him. Not the whole story but, oh well. He also knew Tony wouldn’t be able to put Ty in that shape so he probably had already figured out there had been a third party involved. 

And Tony was missing. 

He could call Obie now, bring him and the police and the private detectives he had certainly already hired to this very apartment where someone clearly lived for a while. Enough for the mattress to leave a damp mark on the floorboards. They could probably find him from the hairs that got stuck in the drain. He’d be locked up and no longer stopping sexual assault cases he encountered. Excessive force or not, that didn’t seem like a good tradeoff to Tony.

He wasn’t going to do that. Oh no. Wouldn’t be the first illegal thing he turned a blind eye to. Luckily, Tony Stark with an impulsive plan was a Tony Stark in his element.

He walked into the bathroom and checked himself over with a critical eye, now that the haze of the alcohol was finally gone. His face was scraped and bruised, his clothing was absolutely vile, he looked horrible. Perfect. I am sorry officer, I hit my head, you see, I don’t remember a thing. 

As he walked out, the door to the apartment slid open the moment his hand was on the handle. The lock was broken, Tony realized. So he closed it again slowly, listened for anyone else in the hall, then made his way outside. 

He wasn’t that far away from the lounge, Tony realized. A flash of last night came into his mind, a ghost sensation of Ty’s hands attacked him suddenly. He shuddered. His stomach made a poor attempt at turning. When he walked in the direction of the venue, no one gave him a second look in the morning crowd. His absolutely revolting state was a bonus at making people look away. 

He ducked into an alley with two huge trash cans, close enough that he could have feasibly walked by himself in the night but far enough that it might have slipped away in an area sweep. He sat himself down between the cans, and dialed.

\---

So, Ty was dead. But he knew that already. 

It just hadn't seemed real until he heard it from another person’s mouth; Tiberius Stone is dead.

Tony faked crying in front of police officers, gave blood samples and acted like he had no idea who might have drugged him. And apparently Ty was so horribly maimed that maybe for the first time, Tony saw actual disturbance in Obie’s eyes when they met. 

He spent the entire day in a daze, being ushered from one makeshift interrogation room to the other at the hospital while doctors tended to his wounds and gave him IV fluids.

Ty was dead. 

No more late night booty calls that got him into trouble with Obie, the ones that he didn’t want to answer anyway. No more dealing with his asshole ways. No more cajoling and guilt tripping. No more parties where he knew no one but Ty so he had to stick with him and… Well. Not again. 

Tony almost expected someone to come up and say that no, Tiberius wasn’t actually dead, there had been a mistake. 

Now that he was found, battered and bruised but not dead, there was going to be a week or so where Obie wouldn’t be so strict with him. He had been almost fatally alcohol poisoned once. And once after that he had almost overdosed on cocaine. 

He knew the drill.

He had almost went victim to homicide, not to mention Obie thought him and Ty were a thing by mutual choice. So in his eyes, he had also lost his boyfriend. Well, good riddance. 

Tony sank into the scratchy cotton of the hospital bed and closed his eyes. Listened to Obie taking calls right outside his door. Security tapes from the lounge, a second sweep of the premises, the press conferences, the funeral…

“...will be later this month, they are keeping the, well, the body. They think the killer’s blood may have mixed in with his but with enough luck, there may be a…”

So, the first part of his plan had gone well. Tony took his phone from the nightstand and unlocked it. When Obie got him a debit card with an anonymous name on it, he probably hadn’t been envisioning this. He had one and so did anyone else with a name like Tony Stark. You wouldn’t want a name like that showing on your every internet purchase after all. And no one from the accounting would bat an eye if a couple of grands went missing on a lease and a cleaning crew.

\---

Tony had gotten rusty. Dealing with Ty, trying to forget that he existed while he was just there hadn’t been good to his brain. But Ty was gone and he was still here and that had to mean something.

Tony was going to make it count.

It took him ten hours to hack into the databases untracked. Three days to connect him to other cases. Another week to find him, head low with a tattered sketchpad under his arm, living out of a duffle bag.

But it only took about half an hour for the absurd blood results that he stole from and rewrote in the hospital system to bring up decades old files from his father’s personal collection, scanned and protected behind firewalls. 

It couldn’t be right. Shouldn’t have been. But there it was.

\---

The lights bothered Tony since he came back to the mansion. It was like someone had put a film over his eyes that blurred out everything. It made him sluggish. Slowed down his thinking. But that newly discovered sense of sudden and boundless freedom never left his chest. 

The shit that he had discovered, that alone was enough to make him stay awake, go that extra mile when his body wanted to shut down.

Tony had told himself that he would try to make it seem like it was a coincidence if he got caught snooping. Obie was from the Howard Stark school of there is no such thing as coincidence though so that might not have worked but still, he had done it anyway.

It was just that he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it. He was supposed to scratch that itch and leave it there but God… With the things he had found, now it was impossible to stop. Thinking. Daydreaming. Scheming.

Whenever he had closed his eyes he heard Elvis Presley and thump, thump, thump, crunch. And it seemed like Obie was more inconvenienced by Ty’s death than anyone else, so Tony played into it. Went around the mansion with its fucking dim lights like he had no idea what to do.

“Did someone change the lightbulbs? Do we need an electrician in a mansion with the name Stark on it?”

Obie had lifted his head from his papers, “Electrician? For what?”

“The lights?” Tony shifted at the door of his office, “Aren’t lights brighter normally?”

“I didn’t- Ah, well. Maybe it’s because of the…” Obie had gestured to his head sympathetically.

“Yeah, maybe,” I didn’t actually hit my head though, so spill, didn’t say Tony.

He had sighed, “He was such a good kid, good head for business, he was going to go to places!”

“Yeah.”

“Stone’s lost a very important asset, surely.”

“Yeah,” an asset, that was what sons were to Obie. And that summed up things perfectly.

So Tony had taken a trip into Obie’s files along with the hospital and whatnot; and had found the security camera footage that somehow never made into any of the official files. It showed Ty being beaten to death, there had been no clear view of the assaulter’s front, just his incredibly broad back and his forearm that had flexed as it came up and down with ferocity above Ty’s body, skin breaking with each hit before finally coming up bloody, splattering the dark liquid around. 

Not that that had stopped the guy.

There was also the part before that of course. Where Ty had dragged Tony to the floor as he had failed to push him away, pressing Tony’s face to the ground as one hand very visibly undid his belt buckle. Tony’s stomach turned, a sudden vision of the asphalt, so close to his face, the smell of his own vomit and Ty’s breath attacking his senses. 

He had ran to his ensuite and puked whatever junk he had eaten for dinner, then went back to watching with shaking hands and an aching throat. 

But there was also the part where the man, Ty’s killer, had came over to Tony, hadn’t turned him around and potentially choke him on his own vomit but put two bloody fingers into his mouth, clearing liquid and pulling out his tongue, clearing his airway. Carefully holding Tony’s head to the side as he had held him like a baby that weighed nothing. 

It wasn’t quite desire that he felt, watching himself being carried away on the screen, but it spread through his core like molten lava. Giddy. Coiled tight. Tony couldn’t remember the last time someone just held him. Ty never held him. They weren’t the hugging type of boyfriends. No, they were the in between the two of us we have this many billion dollars kind of boyfriends. 

He had gotten to experience that, a hug. Not for sex, not for photos and appearances. Just, held. And he couldn’t remember that. Just his luck.

So Obie had hid the footage, and it probably wouldn’t further the investigation much anyway. Just create another scandal and well, don’t speak ill of the dead, yadda yadda… Still, the fact that Obie knew what Ty did and was still calling him a bright, young boy curdled his stomach. 

Had he been trying to get a rise out of Tony? He found himself over analyzing everything Obie has ever said while laying in bed, waiting for exhaustion to do him in. Thinking about how he was somewhere in the house, right now, or in his own bed, sleeping soundly while knowing very well what Ty did.

So Tony laid down in his way too big bed, hiding under his soft duvet from the dimmed lights that he couldn’t escape from and thought about how it would have been if he stayed awake for a minute longer that night, to feel two hefty fingers dive into his mouth, over his tongue, inside his cheeks. How it would have felt to taste Ty’s blood and to know at that moment that he was dead. That the torment was now over, forever.

\---

Then came the test results for the blood samples from Ty’s face. 

And to think Tony had stolen them just in case. Just in case.

After that was a frenzy of coding and reading and more coding. Thanking Howard for his well documented obsessions of the first time and then more coding.

It was Captain America. Fucking Captain America that went off the radar way before Tony was born but he didn’t look a day older than thirty and he had killed Ty and he was…

He had carried Tony in his arms so carefully and had made sure he didn’t choke or drown and he was Captain America.

Tony was allowed to go crazy at this point. He was allowed this frenzy, surely. 

He had Captain America’s bare hand in his mouth.

\---

Tony hacked street cams, security cameras, maybe revolutionized facial recognition technology in a way that he would never be able to admit publicly if he didn’t want about twenty different charges of disregarding image and personality rights and such, but he found him. 

He found the bakery he preferred and the office supplies shop where he bought his sketchbooks and his 2B pencils and his route through Central Park on the five out of seven mornings that he ran and the place he sat down to draw on the other two. 

Because a man has got to throw away his trash somewhere, even if the receipts were paid in cash and the little baggies were torn, data was everywhere. And Tony was nothing if not thorough. After all, what was the point of being a genius if you didn’t sit down and compile the purchases from the same establishments at similar hours. And hacked their security cameras. 

In the end, there he was, wide and muscled as he was in the dark and heavily shaded video where he had beaten Ty bloody, so bad that the body needed DNA identification to close the case and finalize the autopsy. Blond hair slightly bleached at the tips from the sun, light eyes almost shy as he purchased two bagels, one plain and one raisin.

Tony watched him wait in line and vibrated with the knowledge that he, yes this man, was alive, right now, going about his daily life. He was real. He was really Captain America and he was there and real. 

Tony wouldn’t have believed it if the confirmation didn’t come from Howard’s own files. He had taken it seriously. Maybe more seriously than he had ever did anything. Tony had grown with the stories of the legendary Captain America. At first worshipping him alongside his father. Than despising him because it had taken his father away. Then coming to terms with him, accepting that it wasn’t Captain America’s fault that Howard was so fucking obsessed with him. 

He had never understood though. Howard’s decades long obsession. Only now he was realizing that, maybe, Howard had suspected this. That Captain America was still alive. That maybe he couldn’t die. 

And he had been right. His theory was proven. Captain America was really still here.

Tangibly real with scarred knuckles, right hand visibly swollen, darker than the left one. 

An invisible hand closed around Tony’s heart, it’s a heavy weight in his chest. He got hurt because of me. No, for me. A slight pout. A constant arch to his brows.

A thought occured like lightning, sudden and terrifying with its force, how long until someone else figures it out. 

Tony has never been a businessman. Not even his old man was that much of a one. That role was always Obie’s. But they both had drilled one thing into Tony’s mind early on, no matter how brilliant your idea was, if you weren’t fast enough, someone else would think of it too eventually. 

Eventually. 

How long until someone from the Stone’s end realized Obie fiddled with the evidence? That Tony fiddled with evidence? How long until someone tracked it back to him? It wouldn’t take much time for the truth to come out after someone realized he had dug up old files from decades ago. The government would get involved. How long? How long?

How long until he slipped?

The cold sweat on Tony’s back clashed with the excitement bubbling in his stomach. Captain America had been living like this for decades. Surely he wouldn’t slip that easily. Still, Tony had seen the seemingly uncontrollable way he had went at Ty’s face.

Surely it wouldn’t take long for someone to tie this to the other cases where someone must have used some kind of superhuman strength and then… 

Tony took a deep breath. He couldn’t freak out right now. Freak-out time was over. He had to do something. 

It wasn’t only Obie who could throw money at his problems and make them disappear. He turned off his systems and closed his laptop, Tony knew what he was good for.

\---

Contrary to what the tabloids wanted people to think, Tony could still walk on the streets without getting recognized. Much. Especially with a beard, if you could call his fluffy facial hair that. 

The point was that with one pair of ordinary jeans and a pair of sunglasses later, Tony was just a guy. 

He didn’t try to learn his name. Not that he wouldn’t be able to. Call him paranoid but the best way to not accidentally leak evidence is if you don’t have any evidence in the first place. Call him sentimental but Tony had wanted to hear it from him, wanted his name to be something he would give Tony because they would be meeting in the middle. Tony would give him his and he would receive a name in turn. 

He wondered if Captain America would remember Howard. If he would see his father in Tony’s face. Or if he had already seen it. If that was why he had saved him.

For some reason, that didn’t sit right with him. 

Central Park at 7AM was cold as fuck. No one would ever catch Tony outside at this hour. Or out of bed. It was more like bedtime for him, frankly. Tinker in the night, sleep through the morning, breakfast in the afternoon and repeat. 

It wasn’t like he had anywhere to be. Usually.

Grudgingly, he had to admit there was an eerie beauty to the morning light streaming through the mist. Not quite foggy yet, but there was a blur to everything. But then again, that could have been the lack of sleep on Tony’s part too. Dew covered the grass like a glossy coating. The smell of it was enough to keep him awake and on the path, reminding him what he was about to do. Excitement fluttered in his stomach, something between childish glee and desire.

Tony was scared shitless, to say the least. 

He was aware that this could go very wrong. He could just end up dead in a ditch, which would have been the exact opposite of what he set out to do. Though that did seem a bit out there, as rational fears go when meeting Captain America. Still... 

What if he was wrong.

Tony looked around, there really was nobody around. He had crossed a couple runners, a trio of yogis in various states of stretchiness. But the more he advanced in his path, the less and less frequent people had become. And now he was all alone.

Apart from him.

Heart in his mouth, Tony observed him from afar. Like a fucking creep, the thought, but then pushed that down. 

There he was, sitting under a tree, scratching at a pad, head bent comically close to the paper. Tony could literally hear the blood rushing in his in his ears. He hadn’t planned any further than this. To be fair, he hadn’t thought he would ever get this far either. So he stood there, unseen, slowly growing colder and colder while a hurricane went on inside him.

What was his plan, really? Tony and people didn’t really mix anyway. Just look at the people who did stick around. Ty, after his ass and money, trying to find a new blackmail material every single day, and if he couldn’t find it, he wasn’t any above creating it. Obie, who called Ty a bright boy, even after everything and had slowly detached Tony from SI, somehow. 

And anyone else was just dead, not that Howard would count as someone who stuck around. Maria, eh. Just Jarvis. Tony took a deep breath, trying to will his lips not to tremble.

Just the image of a hand, battered and bruised, had kept him going. One step after another. The knowledge that the video was in Obie’s computer and Tony wouldn’t be able to just destroy it because then Obie would know and he could find people to match the dots and it would take time but it would happen and then…

Tony wasn’t really scared of someone prosecuting Captain America of murder, really. He was more concerned with the fact that Captain America had gone of the radar, and was willingly living like a homeless person instead of reaping the benefits of… Well… Being Captain America.

And Tony was sure there was a reason for that. He just wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear that reason or not.

Or if he wanted to be the one to break the illusion of anonymity for this man who had went to great lengths to ensure he was not found.

Tony slowly approached the tree, crouched and sat down on the damp grass, on the other side of the large trunk. Dew immediately starting to make its way through his thin jeans. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to open his mouth. 

Listening to the irregular scratch of the pencil on paper was hypnotizing. Calming. Tony felt as if he opened his mouth, said a word, the moment would be broken. The man would disappear into thin smoke.

Tony would find himself between asphalt and Ty again. All of this would be a drug trip, going through his overactive brain in two seconds.

Tony Stark, saved by Captain America. Yeah, cool story bro.

Tony shifted on the grass. A snap sounded on the other side.

“It’s alright,” Tony voice was so small, it would have gotten lost anywhere. Anywhere else but here, in the foggy silence of Central Park in the morning. Tony’s brain went on a tangent, working overtime. It was Maria’s line, wasn’t it. Why had it come out like that? Tony used to hate it. Maria used to be the de-escalator in every fight, always calm and collected. Tony used to hate that, how he could look at Howard’s drunk, red face and say- Why did it come out like that? Out of his mouth? “It’s alright,” he said again, firmer, a long ingrained instinct of generational conditioning.

Maybe it was his subconscious, trying to be everything Howard couldn’t ever be in front of Captain America. Cool, calm, level-headed.

Tony heard him shuffle on the other side. A flutter or pages. A zipper. Semi-slick, almost rubbery sound of dewy grass and mud under his shoes. Leaving. Don’t leave. 

Tony scrambled to the other side, all on fours, scrambling between doing something like standing up proudly in front of him to cut his way and throwing himself on the ground, hugging his leg and begging for him to stay. 

A mantra of I fucked up, I fucked up, I fucked up went over and over in his head. He should have stayed behind. He should have stayed in the shadows. Helped without getting involved. Done something selfless for once in his life but no, Tony had to go and be selfish again. He had to go and want him and lust after him like a creep and get himself on his knees in front of Captain America. For once in his life, he could have just been happy with what he had but no, he had to go and want more. 

Tony took a shaky breath, thick grass bruised under his knees. 

“Don’t go, please,” he slowly reached for his hand, the right one, the hale one, lightly touching the warm palm with his own cold digits, “Please.” 

He could see the moment he was recognized.

“How did you find me?”

The wide, disbelieving eyes touched something in Tony. Oh God, but they were so blue.

“Did you think I could just let it go?” Tony lowered his voice, suddenly aware of how open, how vulnerable they are outside, “I used to have nightmares about him. Now I have nightmares of him coming back from death. Every time I wake up I just cry with relief that he is fucking gone, I-” 

“You shouldn’t have come here,” he grabbed Tony’s wrist, “You shouldn’t be around me. Especially you.”

Tony’s eyes blurred with tears, from the vice grip on his wrist or from the clear cut dismissal, he wasn’t sure. 

“I know, God, fuck, I know. I’m sorry. I just- I bought the house, I just couldn’t leave it like that, I-” He hissed at the sudden spike of pain from his wrist. When the gripping hand abruptly disappeared, his wrist was already filling with blood under his skin, blooming a fierce red that would surely turn into an ugly bruise that would heal in blotches of blue black purple, mottled with yellowish greens.

“Shit! No, no, no, no, no…”

Suddenly his blue eyes were so much closer than before, kneeling with Tony on the damp grass. Wide eyed and hyperventilating, his shaking hands got a hold of his own blond strands pulling with a ferocity that made Tony flinch.

“Hey, no, it’s alright,” Tony reached for him.

“No, no, no, you should leave. You should have just left, you-”

“No,” Tony sidled up close, “I am not black and blue for the first time in years, do you even know how much Ty- That night wasn’t a one-off thing. This,” he held up his wrist, “this is nothing, this-” as he reached for the tight hands Tony realized he had busted open some of the closed wounds on the left one. 

Holding firmly, he slowly caressed away the detached scabs and the drops of blood welled up on taut skin, “It’s nothing. You wouldn’t-” Tony pulled away Steve’s hands, clenched in his own hair, one by one interlocking their fingers, “You wouldn’t hurt me like that.”

\---

His name was Steve and he was living on other people’s goodwill. Because he was a sweet boy like that, said the smiling woman behind the counter in that little bakery Tony had hacked to bits.

Tony snorted, knowing Steve had to be something like seventy fucking years old. But it was so easy to forget that, looking at him. He did look young. Tony tried not to think about the implications of that.

They had walked back from the park slowly, as the sun got higher in the sky and got lost in the lunch break crowd; people in suits, in various work attire creating a bubble around them: two young men with nothing to do but pay attention to each other.

“Did you recognize me? That day?,” Tony had asked.

“Recognize? How,” Steve had been confused.

“God, you’re not gonna believe this shit.”

All of it had been a daze. 

Seeing Steve (Steve, Tony thought giddily, his name is Steve), eyes tearing and nose leaking, with his shaky hands holding onto Tony’s wrist had bruised his heart more than his abused joint. Knowing the key to the apartment was resting in Steve’s pocket, safe. Tony had been scared, the more he had looked at Steve he had felt it more and more acutely. He hadn’t been scared for himself but that this wouldn’t work. Still, the more Steve had panicked, the less he could feel that fear abate. Steve hadn’t known what to do as much as Tony.

His panic had put Tony in a mindset that he would panic about later and would call it “I was scared of becoming my dad but oh no, I am turning into my mother”.

But he had done it. He had helped Captain fucking America turn from the edge of a literal panic attack so you could pry that from his cold dead fingers. He wasn’t letting that go. His personal victory. The most important one.

Hell, Tony was not the mediator. He was the catalyst, if anything. Always the one that stirred up shit, made a mess, a hurricane, a tornado. But for Steve, he was apparently whatever he needed, kneeling between his legs on damp ground and whispering things he couldn’t remember over the dull throb of his joint. 

And Steve, after being convinced that Tony wasn’t going to perish immediately in the middle of Central Park from a bruised wrist, suggested they go and find some ice.

So they ended up sitting side by side in a cafe with ice held up to Tony’s wrist, waiting for their almond croissants to arrive. Steve was still sniffling every once in a while. Tony could still feel the last dregs of adrenaline coursing through his veins, feel the tightness in his own hunched shoulders that he couldn’t relax. All of it acting as little signs that told people to stay the fuck away. 

The owner knew Steve. Tony had guessed she would but it was so strange to see Steve well-known for being so gentle and polite. Somehow it just fit right into the puzzle that was Captain America in Tony’s mind. Kind. He even held the door open when they were coming into the cafe.

It was so weird. Possibly the closest thing Tony ever had to a date. He gazed at the busy street through the floor to ceiling windows, peeking at Steve every so often. No rushing, no cajoling, no manipulation. Just Steve, who was sitting on his hands in the plush armchair and still managing to seem fidgety, and Tony, with his ice in a plastic bag held up to his wrist. Stealing glances at each other.

The same woman that took their orders came with a little tray full with their drinks and warm croissants, dusted sugar starting to melt on them. 

“How is your wrist feeling, dear?” She asked Tony as she carefully placed his coffee down.

“It’s fine,” Tony flashed a quick smile, “It’s nothing, really,” he could feel Steve’s eyes on him as he lifted his ice bag to make room for their food.

“Well, keep holding that to your wrist. If you need anything else, just call out boys, alright?”

“Thank you, ma’am,” said Steve as she left smiling.

Tony bent down to take a sip of his coffee as Steve idly mixed a packet of sugar into his fruity tea. Tony tried to balance his iced wrist on the armrest of his chair to free his other hand unsuccessfully. Steve startled as Tony caught his slipping, watery ice pack at the last second.

“You won’t be able to eat like that. I-” Steve reached out, then pulled back abruptly. He looked towards the counter and the line before it. 

“It’s okay,” Tony tried to be appeasing, “You can help.”

“I should- I should go wash my hands.”

“Is it the charcoal? Steve, it’s not a big deal.”

“No!” 

Tony flinched.

Dropping his shoulders as if he could hide from his own outburst, Steve lowered his voice, “No. Ah- No. It’s just that-” he whispered, his eyes still on the long line at the counter, “There was blood and I- I had wiped but I should- Don’t leave. Right? You won’t leave if I-”

“Steve,” Tony cut off, just giving in to the insanity of the moment, “It’s okay. You- You don’t need to- Just feed me the Goddamned croissant before it gets cold.”

“Oh- I-” Steve slumped, the nervous energy draining from his frame, “Alright.”

Suddenly a thought appeared in Tony’s mind, he whispered, incredulous, “Wait is that Ty’s blood?”

Steve’s forehead creased, “Who- Ew! No! Tony!” He giggled, “It’s been weeks!”

Tony wanted to give him everything. He laughed with him, “It’s a relief to know you’re so clean.”

So he had killed again, or at least got his hands bloody somehow. Tony wanted to shake his head. Not- Not because of what he did. But really, Steve was going around with blood on his hands. He knew from the files that he couldn’t really catch anything himself, but Tony wondered how he hadn’t gotten caught yet with all his recklessness. Impulsiveness. I am here now, he wanted to say, I will protect you. There is not one piece of evidence that I cannot destroy. Instead he chewed on his sweet pastry. 

They ate in silence for a while. Steve alternated between taking a bite from his own croissant and ripping off a piece from Tony’s. Tony imagined licking the caster’s sugar off of his fingers, he re-lived in his head how he had imagined taking his bloody fingers into his mouth. He imagined he could smell the old blood. But he diligently took the pieces of pastry from his hands instead. 

There would be time, time for everything else. Tony would make sure of it. He lifted his coffee cup to Tony’s lips carefully after each bite. Steve had even let Tony sip his blueberry muffin flavored tea. It was horribly fake and way too sweet but he had laughed at the face Tony had made so Tony counted that as a win.

In between the last bites, Tony quietly asked, “What sparked this one?”

He had wondered if Steve would pick up on what he was saying but he did. He seemed sheepish; still, he was not secretive when talking to Tony about someone he killed. Tony didn’t know why that made him happy, but it did. 

“It was too much like,” he made a stilted gesture towards him, cutting himself off.

“Too much like Ty,” Tony huffed humorlessly, “Yeah, he was infuriating like that. Couldn’t get your anger out the first time?”

“I wanted to do more, I-” Steve took a deep breath, rubbing his greasy fingers harshly over his eyes, “God, I wanted to just,” his hands clenched into fists, he presses them against his face.

Ten thousand possibilities go through Tony’s head. Had he heard someone coming? Worse, had someone seen him already? Had something happened to him? He felt panic creeping in.

“Then why did you- What happened?”

Steve bared his face enough to look at him, his hands revealing a blotchy blush spreading over his face, “You were so beautiful,” his pink patches got suddenly darker.

Tony’s mind immediately went to the image of his bent, bruised, vomit covered form; he couldn’t help the giggle that escaped in his disbelief.

Steve looked away suddenly, Tony saw his jaw clench and tremble. He tried to scoot his armchair unsuccessfully.

“Hey,” he leaned into Steve over the small table, his stomach swooped when their eyes met but he didn’t avert his gaze, “That’s probably the first time anyone said that to me and actually meant it, you know. Or maybe, no wait, it might actually be the first time ever that someone called me beautiful,” he laughed maybe a little bitterly.

Steve leaned over too, his alarmingly quick anger forgotten, his hand reached to touch Tony’s cold pinky. 

“You really are,” he dropped his head, “I was so scared you were- That something was going to happen to you. I- Yeah,” Steve cut off. He rubbed his eyes, “I think I have butter in my eyes,” he huffed, smiling.

Tony couldn’t get enough of that boyish smile. Steve’s left eye was getting pinker by the second, where he had rubbed his buttery hands onto his face but his eyes sparkled still. He dropped his ice bag that was mostly water now onto the table.

“Go wash your face and I will pay.” 

“Okay.” 

Steve insisted on carrying their dishes back on his way. While he was gone and Tony was paying, the cashier woman discreetly leaned towards him, “Look dear, I have known Steve for a long time but if he ever did-” she gestured to his exposed wrist.

Tony covered it hastily, “No he- He wouldn’t. He was-” he smiled, “Actually he was the one who saved me.” 

That wasn’t really a lie, was it?

She smiled at him, “I knew I was right about that boy.”

Tony left a hefty tip for her. 

\---

Tony couldn’t bear to leave Steve and Steve seemed just as reluctant to leave his side.

Emboldened, Tony offered that they check out the apartment. They slowly walked, quiet, arms rubbing at every other swing. 

“There used to be a toy store,” Steve pointed to a brick and mortar that was now a high end boutique, “It was real fancy stuff. We wouldn’t come to this part of the town much when I was little, but sometimes,” he sighed wistfully as they left the boutique behind, “Even after I outgrew toys I’d come here to look at their displays. They’d always have these puzzle boxes out of dark, polishes wood. Wonder what happened to that shop.”

He pointed out other shops and changes, buildings that were now gone, entire alleys that disappeared to create the large plazas… Everything, he remembered in picture perfect detail.

His face fell when Tony commented on that.

“I’m sorry,” Tony slipped his hand into the crook of Steve’s arm gently, unsure of what he did.

“It’s all right, I- Yeah, I remember everything like that.”

That- Tony shivered. He hugged Steve’s arm. Steve smiled down at him. They walked in silence after that, world around them getting quieter as they left the streets lined with cafes and shops and made their way into the housing dense areas.

They stopped in front of the apartment.

“It’s your house, you should open the door,” Tony made a ta-da gesture.

Steve held the door open for him, both there and inside.

Inside of the apartment, while clean, was a mess. Tony looked around, trying to work out what box belonged to what furniture. It smelt like stale cardboard inside. Steve, on the other hand, looked a bit overwhelmed, still holding the strap of his duffel bag with one hand, standing at the door.

“Well,” Tony turned around, “I love buying shit from internet so sue me, I guess.”

They opened the boxes. Tony insisted on calling an assembly crew. Steve insisted he’d do it himself. 

“Tony-”

“I’m calling them, they can be here in an hour.”

“It’s not necessary, I can lift-”

“Do you want to sleep on cardboard boxes?”

“Why would I- Tony, do you really want to deal with strangers right now?”

Tony considered that, looking at Steve who already pulled the bare mattress that was still in its plastic cover onto the floor. Steve sat down onto it. Tony perched on a padded box, now labeled “desk”. He could see the appeal of not calling strangers here.

They sat in silence for a while, watching the dust from the opened boxes dance and slowly settle in the sunbeams. 

Tony spoke gently, “You can, like, not answer this if you don’t want to. Like, you can- I mean, you don’t have to answer anything you don’t want to, obviously, but-” He bit his lip, “Do you- How was Howard when you had met him?”

Steve smiled wistfully, playing with a hole in the plastic cover he was sitting on, “Loud, flirty, reckless. He was,” he sighed, “annoying. But he was a good man.”

Tony hugged his knees, “I think your disappearance did a number on him.”

Steve’s face twisted.

“No. Steve, don’t be like that. I- It’s not your fault. I don’t think that was the only thing but- Yeah, he was- He wasn’t really that good of a father,” Tony laughed, humorless, “But yeah, he would always talk about you. He was convinced he could find you. Bring you back. I always wondered how a man like Howard had ever been friends with you.”

“You don’t talk with your dad anymore?”

“Oh, no. Well, I can’t really,” Tony felt his eyes sting. He didn’t know why he felt like crying after Howard now, when he hadn’t even cried at the funeral. He didn’t really miss Howard, but maybe the idea of a man that Steve remembered made him wistful. A version of his own father that he had never met, “He died three years ago. Along with mom. With Maria,” he sniffed, “yeah.

Steve looked stricken, “He’s dead?”

“Yeah,” Tony nodded, “he’s dead.” He got off from his box, sat down beside Steve and leaned on his shoulder. 

Then Steve started to talk. 

He talked about Howard and how he remembered him to be. He talked about Dr. Erskine, who would only be the first person on the long list of loved ones Steve would lose in the years to come after the serum. He talked about Peggy. Tony could still remember Aunt Peg, even if the memories were hazy. Still, Steve was happier, after Tony told his own tales about her no bullshit attitude and the times she spent with him when he was little. 

He talked about Bucky and the Howling Commandos. About not wanting to come back to the States after the war was over. About actually going through with that plan, drifting around in Europe, lost in every sense of the word. Cutting ties with everyone, once he realized he couldn’t age. Coming back years later, dejected, to find out that everyone he knew was either dead or about to be.

Tony didn’t dare move. His head on Steve’s shoulder, one hand carding through the short strands on the nape of his neck; they sat like that long after Steve ran out of things to say. The room got colder and colder as the sun started to set. 

In the end, Tony had to move his legs, “Ow,” he moved his toes that fell asleep in his shoes, making them wiggle. Steve turned, wrapping an arm around Tony, he pulled him into his chest.

This, thought Tony, I cannot lose this.

\---

Tony locked himself into the basement with his computers after his next encounter with Obie. Even thinking about it made his skin crawl, but he couldn’t even explain what bothered him so much. Still, everything Obie did started to grate on his nerves. Everything he did and said kept playing over and over in his head as he laid in bed at night; every second he got distracted, he remembered that the video that was still in Obie’s hard drive.

That Howard’s files were still in this mansion. They were protected but Obie still had a right to everything with the name Stark on it for another year. Until Tony turned twenty one, he basically owned nothing.

It had been a pain in the ass to keep his bruised wrist a secret from him, especially with the restricted movement, but at least Tony had experience hiding injuries. Maybe the one good thing that came out of his on again off again relationship with Ty was that it taught him how to be sneaky.

But then again Obie knew. Or at least he must have, considering his lack of reaction to definite drugging and attempted sexual assault. 

So nothing was safe in this house anymore. Still, Tony also couldn’t take anything out of the house either. So he had done the only logical thing and had stripped all the previous connection to his workshop that Obie didn’t give two shits about. 

New landline, no cameras, no WiFi, everything closed circuit .

His day with Steve started to seem like a dreamscape the moment he had stepped back into the mansion. If not for his wrist, he could have convinced himself that the entire thing had been a dream. 

Tony had been at the edge of a mad panic the entire evening. He hadn’t been able to sleep. He sat up all night, opened up every single work file, every single notepad to computer program he had ever set aside, had given up on. I have to be useful, went through his head, I have to be. 

He coded until morning and then some. His focus seemed fragile. Normally he would be in the zone, deep enough that he wouldn’t hear if a bomb went off beside him but this time he was disconnected from the world by a soap bubble that threatened to pop and let the panic sink in the moment he quit working. I have to be useful. In the end though, exhaustion had consumed him.

Obie had barged into his room the moment he was awake, voice booming. His cheer felt fake. Tony had flinched at his touch but his discomfort at Obie touching him had been mistaken as surprise, thankfully.

“Maybe you should take a vacation, huh?” Obie had said, “Get away from the concrete jungle a little bit, unwind a little after- After everything.”

Tony had made a noncommittal sound.

“Who was that beautiful brunette you were seeing- Ah! Bain’s daughter!”

“Yeah, Sunset and I aren’t really close anymore,” Tony had cut him off, “I’ll think about it Obie.”

Thinking back now, he was berating himself for even saying that much. He should have found something to say that- Hell, he just shouldn’t have opened his mouth at all. But he also had had to find a middle ground to make Obie quit his I’m worried about you act and make him go away so that he could get his throbbing wrist out from under the covers and run it under cold water or something.

Obie had stood up to leave, turned around, then pointed to a covered platter sitting on his side table, “I had some food brought up while you were sleeping, the pot stickers with the crab filling that you liked. It must have gone cold by now but heat it up, yeah,” he had patted his shoulder, bending over to reach him, alarmingly close, “eat something real for a change.”

Tony was sure there hadn’t been a plate when he woke up. Had he been that sleepy still that he hadn’t realized? It still bothered him. Nagged at him like a pebble in his shoe. He would have realized a platter with a cloche sitting on his side table, right? Right. Why would Obie lie about bringing food, even? 

He couldn’t even trust his own brain in this house. Great.

But then there was the fact that, even if he really hadn’t been remembering correctly, Obie still had been in his room while he slept. Sure, his ideas of Obie were souring real fast lately but Obie wouldn’t try to hurt him directly. He wouldn’t try anything like suffocating him in his sleep.

Right?

He looked at the code he had abandoned years ago. A self learning security system. God. He could have finished a working draft of it when he was seventeen but no. Obie had said it was impossible. Obie had said it was too ambitious. Obie had said that he should lean more towards engineering rather than coding. Obie, Obie, Obie…

And now he was trying to send Tony away. Tony had been realizing he was getting more and more separated from SI every passing year but he hadn’t cared then.

Well, maybe he should have. It was like a gap in his memories. Why hadn’t he cared?

Code came to him in disconnected pieces. He really had gotten rusty in the passing years. His mind jumped out forward to create pieces that shouldn’t have existed yet. He wanted to go crazy on the keyboard, smash out the entire code in but he forgot operators; wrote new, unnecessarily long and complicated, functions for already existing ones. 

He dropped his head onto his color changing keyboard. He had bought the thing as a joke while in MIT. Okay maybe he had bought it because he wanted to seem like he was enthused about at least some things in life. RBG lights didn’t cure depression, so what. At least it looked cool.

He looked at the rows and rows of continuous A’s and G’s his forehead created. He would find a way, he was going to. He had to. He had seen Howard’s firewalls, they were good but not unbreakable. Especially after so many years. He needed something that would change. Adapt as time went on and coding languages changed and code breakers evolved. Steve’s security depended on that. The security of his identity depended on that.

He just needed a little break.

Tony closed the compiler and opened a browser instead. His code wasn’t coming together. The vacation thing Obie had said wouldn’t leave his brain alone. But he would deal with all of that later. It was time for some retail therapy. 

\---

When Tony arrived at the apartment around five in the afternoon with bags and boxes in hand, Steve was gone. He placed the shopping bags by the door. He had bought whatever came to his mind; quality notebooks, pencils, a phone, a couple hoodies and stuff, he had guessed the sizes, he wanted to buy bottoms too but that was harder to guess. But that could wait anyway.

The house looked more like a house than the last time he had been here. Steve had finished assembling the furniture. It still looked a bit bare, a bit makeshift but it was alright. For now.

The main room was lived in. Steve had put everything in here, not bothering to fill up the other two rooms. The unmade bed, now with a proper frame that had drawers, covered the most area. Tony threw his jacket and laptop bag onto it. The small study table was at the foot of it, long side looking to the windows, with notebooks neatly piled. 

Tony was annoyed at himself now that he didn’t wait a little bit more to buy the furniture. He had wanted the apartment to look like someone was indeed moving in after the cleaning, for the neighbours to see. If he had waited he could have gotten Steve an actual drawing table that angled and shit. Well, he still could. Maybe.

He flipped open one of the notebooks, one of the half-sized ones that Steve had in Central Park too. Small trees, bushes, dogs and squirrels covered the pages. Some were more realistic than the others. Some, Steve had left unfinished; head too crooked, one limb too long to waste more time on.

Tony put the notebook back into its place. Pulled out another, bigger one. This one had people in it. Sitting down in cafes, walking in the streets, running… Tony realized Steve had more than one drawing of the yoga group he passed by in Central Park, thrilled by the fact that they paid attention to the same thing. 

Then there was him. 

Tony could recognize the cut of the pants he wore that day, the collar of the shirt. Steve had drawn him, first his silhouette, then gradually more and more in detail. Laying on the mattress that he woke up, scared and disoriented.

Steve had called him beautiful. He looked peaceful.

He reverently placed the notebook back where he found it. Got up, threw himself onto the bed, suddenly restless, wanting Steve to come back soon. He should have thought of a phone that first day. It was ridiculous that Steve didn’t have a way to contact him, now that they had found each other.

He turned, burying his face into the pillows. Steve had slept here. Giddy, he took a deep breath, trying to find his smell in the sheets.

Tony sat up in bed and pulled his laptop bag to himself. If he was going to wait, at least he could be useful while he waited. Opening his interpreter, he got to work. 

Starting had been hard but now that he knew what he wanted to do, what he exactly needed, the code flew. It hadn’t worked before for a reason. Function calls too slow to respond, garbage collection lacking in finesse… Most importantly, everything had been lacking in integration. There was no code that could do what Tony wanted it to do. 

So, he’d make one. Simple.

Leaning back to the headboard, he lost himself in the work as the sun slowly set outside, painting the room first a warm orange, then gradually a cool purple that faded into darkness. Tony didn’t bother with the lights. Darkness, coupled with the intense light of the laptop helped him focus with the background faded into abyss.

So much that he almost didn’t hear the keys jangling outside the door. He jumped at the sudden click of the lock. A cold gust of air brought the smell of something into the room. Tony pushed his laptop off to the side, blind in the dark after the bright screen.

“Steve?”

Light suddenly filled the room, temporarily blinding him again. Tony blinked. His heart clenched at the sight when his eyes adjust.

“Oh Steve.”

Steve stood there, back to the door with blood and bile soaked into his clothes. His haphazardly wiped hands had left faint, bloody prints on the light switch. His right hand gripped his keys still. Tony’s brain was immediately firing at full speed; where had he been, where was the body, where did he touch, which subdivision’s database did he need to hack into? 

“Tony, please.”

He wanted to jump to action at the whisper, take Steve into his arms, rid him of his soiled shirt but held himself back, “Yes baby,” he got up, but didn’t go any closer, “What do you need?”

“I can’t-” Steve ran a hand over his face, spreading the filth, “You shouldn’t have- You shouldn’t be here, Tony, please.”

Tony took in Steve’s stiff posture, jaw clamped tight. He wanted to be good for him. Wanted to show Steve he could be good, he could be anything. Anything Steve needed. Anything he wanted.

“Sweetheart?” Tony sat back down onto the bed, “Steve, tell me what you need.”

“I can’t- Tony, I’m not-” Steve took a harsh breath, his eyes hardened, suddenly focused, an almost animalistic expression appeared on his face, “I can’t control it, when I see things, when I hear people saying things like that- They would have done it too,” the hand that covered his face went up to his hair, pulling, “they can’t- They don’t deserve to live, they can’t- When everyone else is dying, they can’t-” 

His eyes caught Tony, sitting on the bed, abruptly he crumbled, “Oh God, Tony.”

Tony scooted to the very edge of the bed, hands itching to touch him, “Steve-”

“Oh fuck, I can’t help myself, Tony, please, I can’t-” Steve let out a shaky breath, “I’m gonna hurt you, Tony, I can’t control it, please.”

“Shh,” Tony couldn’t take it anymore, he got up, closing the distance between them, the acrid smell burning his nose, “Steve, let me help you baby, let’s get you out of these, huh?”

He reached for Steve’s hands, one fist clenched in his hair, the other around the keys still. A shiver ran through him as Tony held his hands, rubbed his thumbs over his knuckles, feeling the bumps and the valleys of new and old scars. He ran his hands up Steve’s arms as he went pliant under his attention. 

Tony wrapped his hands around his wrists, “Come on,” and Steve came willingly.

Tony pulled them both into the bathroom, turned on the tap with one hand for water to warm up. Steve flinched at the sudden sound of water sloshing down. Tony shushed him. 

He took the keys out of his hand, blodied. Steve had cut his palm on them but he didn’t even seem to be aware of the cuts. To be fair, he seemed to slip away somewhere inside his own mind, eyes glazed and shivering from time to time. Tony unbuttoned his shirt, gently pushing it off of his shoulders. 

He wanted to run his hands all over Steve, over his chest, from his wide shoulders to his biceps. But not like this, not now. He needs me, Tony thought, he needs me to help him now. 

He threw the shirt into the trash to be dealt with later, he would buy Steve a thousand more.

“Steve? Baby? You need to wash up, alright? Can you do that for me?”

“Tony?”

“Yes baby, can you?”

“Don’t leave.”

And that was all the encouragement Tony needed really.

It was a surreal experience, showering with Steve. It hadn’t been something Tony ever fantasized about, though, to be fair, he wouldn’t know what to imagine if he had fantasized. But not this, never this.

They stood under water, close, then closer. Tony had washed Steve’s hair, raising himself on his tiptoes to reach, Steve dipping his head unconsciously, pinkish water collecting around the drain, then slowly clearing away.

“I’m cold,” had whispered Steve, under scalding water, air inside the bathroom so warm and humid it had been hard to breathe, “I can’t feel my feet.”

So Tony had hugged him close, the hand, freshly wounded from the keys elevated, laying on his shoulder, bare skin touching from head to toe.

Tony had been in beds where arms and legs mixed, under the influence of way too many shit to ever be safe, in places he didn’t know with people whose faces he couldn’t recall and still… This was the thing that broke him at last. This was the thing that would make him throw everything aside if asked. He wouldn’t be able to go back. If Steve ever sent him away, he would be incomplete. 

If at that moment Steve had asked for his life, he would have given it willingly. 

There was nothing above this. Everyone wanted Tony Stark. They wanted a piece of his cash, a piece of his legacy. They fucked him like as if, if they touched his bare skin enough times, some of this genius would rub off on them. Tony had nothing to give to them. 

There was only one person to ever come into his arms and stay there for a warmth that even boiling water couldn’t give, and that was Steve. 

Tony had pressed his face against his bare chest, so close that the water couldn’t get in. It there was ever any doubt in his mind, all had been erased at that moment. He would give anything, do anything to stay here. For Steve to keep him there, by his side.

Tony dried them both with fluffy towels with the tags still on. Steve was shivering still but he looked more alert, more present. Tony dressed them both, tucked Steve under blankets and cuddled, head on his chest, listening to his breathing.

Steve ran his fingers through his hair occasionally.

It was Steve who broke the silence, “I don’t want them to touch you.”

“Who?”

“I- Anyone. Someone is bound to catch up to me at some point. If the government finds out-”

Tony snorted, “Like I’d let that happen.”

“Tony,” Steve’s arms tightened around him.

“No, Steve,” Tony sighed, “Do you really think you hadn’t left any of your blood on Ty?” he felt Steve tense underneath him, arms locking in their constrictive embrace, “Babe, I had your back from the start.”

Steve buried his nose into Tony’s hair, “I never questioned getting caught as much as I did back then, you know. I really, really wanted to beat him into pulp,” he pulled away a little, his hand came up to cup Tony’s face, with utmost care and gentleness that was in stark contrast to his steely voice, “And I wouldn’t have minded, you know? After seeing, after- How he treated you- How could do that to you?“

Really, Tony thought. How could he do that?

And weeks, no scratch that, years of fear from Ty, Obie’s straight out dismissal of everything he had done to Tony, every hurt he had compartmentalized, that he had bottled up and put on the shelf came out. Tony put his face into Steve’s chest and cried like he hasn't in years. 

Sobs shook his body long after he ran out of tears, he coughed, “You know what the worst part is?” He wiped his face with his sleeve, “Obie saw that. Obie saw all of that and he called him a ‘good asset’,” he laughed darkly. His throat hurt.

Steve bundled him up in his arms, pressed his face to his tear wrecked one, “No more, Tony, oh God, never again, okay? I’m here now. You- You’re-” Tony felt Steve’s face warm up, “Mine.”

“Yeah,” Tony’s heart was beating double time, “I am. Steve,” he pulled back to look into Steve’s eyes, pupils dilated, they only left a thin ring of that sky blue irises, “I’m yours and you’re mine and that’s exactly why I’m going to keep deleting information off of state databases.” He pressed a kiss, very lightly, to Steve’s lips, feeling his hitched breath on his own mouth, “So tell me where you’ve been, baby.”

It was swelteringly hot underneath the blankets, but Steve didn’t seem to be feeling any warmer. To Tony he felt like a furnace but he didn’t have the heart to take away Steve’s blankets. So he did the only logical thing, stripped down to his boxer briefs. Steve blushed as he re-entered their own little blanket sauna like they haven’t just ran their hands over each other’s naked skin in the shower mere hours ago. He lightly placed his hands around his waist, stroked his bare back.

They spent the night under the blankets, talking. Every second of it, Tony made and remade his plans, backtracking Steve’s steps. In the end their talk turned around and came to them. 

Steve’s mother had been a nurse. From how he talked about her, Tony could tell he loved his mother. Steve had lost her to tuberculosis. He had thought he had come to terms with losing her.

Until a series of events had triggered those buried feelings, how unfair it was that his mother had died young when other people just… Kept on living. Undeservedly.

Steve had been helping an old man into the hospital who has asked for directions. Family member of a patient formerly lost in ER had stormed the place with an assault rifle. It hadn’t even made it to the news. 

That has stuck with Steve. 

How could they do that? How could they have done that? He had been drifting, slipping in and out of uncontrollable rage. Hiding had become harder after that, but then again, he had been caring less and less about that.

He had lost everyone. It was hard to talk about, for him, and Tony didn’t want to push but he could see it in Steve’s eyes. Everyone had left him. He wanted to follow them too.

“Sometimes, I hoped to get caught, it’s hard out there in winter, or,” he had looked out of the window, then back at Tony, “it used to be. Maybe not so much anymore.”

Meanwhile Tony had everything and none of that meant anything to him. 

And anywhere else, in any other place but in Steve’s arms, he would have acted like it was a nonchalant kind of carelessness. But here, he could admit that no one ever cared about him and he didn’t care about them. Tony was familiar with being used for money, sex, access. The sparkliest of the necklaces and cufflinks, the biggest bottle of vodka with the best cocaine in the city, clubs and penthouses with beds that covered half the room…

“No one in a room like that would turn and look at you twice if you died in your own vomit,” Tony had kissed Steve’s palm, resting on his cheek, “and they would act so sad in the morning, you’d have no idea,” another kiss, “that they didn’t give a damn.”

\---

Tony would stay at that little apartment for forever, but he has to go home at some point so that Obie wouldn’t come looking after him. Obie never really looked for him before when he spent the night somewhere else, but then again back then he knew Tony was with Ty, that Ty dragged him wherever he went.

Tony, in some corner of his mind knew that Ty relayed information about their whereabouts to Obie but he had never thought to be suspicious of that. Of them knowing each other and Obie accepting their relationship so quickly. 

Lately he was suspicious of everything though.

He went down to his workshop immediately. Some of the backtracking for Steve’s latest slip up, he had done on his laptop but the hacking and busting, he didn’t want to without his regular security systems. He needed to get to work.

He plugged in everything he has disconnected, which was a sure way to stay unhacked. If you didn’t exist, they couldn’t find you. Whom he was scared of, he wasn’t sure yet. Obie? Government? But he was playing it safe this time, with Steve on the line.

He sat down, leaned back and closed his eyes as everything rebooted and the security sweep got completed. Steve and him had talked until late at night. Tony didn’t want to push him, but there was still so much he wanted to ask Steve.

What had been the procedure really like? What parts of the process he knew? What did he remember? What had changed? What had his connection to the government been like? How was he treated back then?

Had they treated him badly? Like a lab rat, rather than a human? It would be a shame if someone were to go and dig up dirt on government officials and then release it into the public but what could you do?

He still had trouble connecting the Steve he had in his arms just last night to the man Howard went on and on about. Steve Rogers to Captain America.

The similarities were there though. Steve couldn’t stand unfairness. Howard used to say Captain America had started out with a kid who always stood up to bullies and never knew how to back down, before the obsession and the alcohol, before, when Tony was just old enough to understand.

There was so much he wished he could ask Howard too. What had pushed him to cut his ties with the remaining scientists from the super soldier project? What had pushed him to cut ties with the government projects? Howard had talked so much about Captain America and so little about his ties to the project.

He was brought back to present with two pings. 

Tony scrambled up to catch the notifications of his activity sweep. There it was, telling Tony one file was breached since he had been to his computer, and one had been removed or displaced. He clicked on the notification to see which file it was.

It was on Obie’s computer. The video file. 

Steve.

Now, he had just came into the mansion. He could leave. Physically, there was nothing stopping him from leaving. But he was stuck to the chair he was sitting on. Possibilities ran through his mind. 

Obie could get someone to track his phone. Obie could get someone to literally follow him. He had never stopped and thought about how much of his life Obie had taken under control. His cards went through Obie because he was drunk most of the time wasn’t he, so were his friends, what if someone stole it. 

Everyone who worked at the mansion reported to Obie. This wasn’t even supposed to be his house, didn’t he have a penthouse somewhere in New York. But he had slowly moved himself in, asserting more of himself into Tony’s life. Pulling himself like a divider in between Tony and Stark Industries.

His friends from MIT had slowly disappeared, he only saw people from the same business circle and then Ty had appeared. After Ty was just… Ty. 

And Tony, bitter about people he wouldn’t be able to bring back and battles he wouldn’t be able to win, now that Howard was dead, had let it happen.

God, but Obie did run everything and Tony hadn’t even stopped to question it. He thought Obie cared. He couldn’t understand no one had cared. He had had nothing to compare Obie to. God, he had to do something but what, what, what?

Leaving so soon would be suspicious but then again Tony had to inform Steve. He had to-

He could call him. He could call him now. God. He had forgotten about the phone.

It rang and rang and rang, then a sleepy voice was on the line, “T-ny?”

“I have to talk to you,” damn it, not a great way to open conversation.

Steve’s voice came much clearer now, “Tony? What happened?”

“St- Baby? Are you home?”

“Tony, did something happen?”

“No. No, nothing like that, but God, I have to see you, okay? I have to talk to you. I’m coming back, just stay there, alright?”

He had made Steve angry. You have to get used to that, said Tony to himself as he started remote data collection as he changed, knowing you, probably won’t be the last time he’ll be angry at you. Still, it was hard to hear his strained voice directed at him. 

Tony hoped he would understand his discretion and panic once they could talk, without Tony worrying about things going to Obie’s ear. 

That didn’t change the fact that he was a mess though. All throughout the process of sneaking back out of the mansion, on the taxi, there was just one thing on his mind, almost pushing him to the edge: I was supposed to be useful.

He got into the apartment on the edge of tears, hands fumbling with the keys. He opened the door, only to be swallowed up by another body, arms coming around him, vice tight. 

“Steve.”

“God, do you have any idea how scared you got me here? Huh?” He pulled back and looked into Tony’s eyes, “All I could do was pacing and pacing, no idea if you were in trouble or not, not being able to do anything Tony I-” 

“Steve,” Tony snuck up a hand through his embrace, caressing his rough cheek, “I’m okay, I’m alright, I- I couldn’t talk in the house, I was- Obie could-”

Steve bent down, pressed his lips into his hair, “I cannot lose you. I cannot lose you right now, alright. I know it’s selfish but God, Tony, I cannot.”

“It’s not selfish. Steve, I’m here and fuck- He- Obie relocated the files of- The security footage from the first night. He knows. I mean, I don’t know if he knows it’s me but he knows something, Steve I-”

“Can I kiss you?”

“What?” Tony’s brain fritzed out.

Steve looked down, bashful, his anger seemingly forgotten, “I can’t remember the last time someone was worried about me.

Tony surged up and kissed him, putting all his worry and love for this man into it. 

Steve took him to bed, his arms around Tony, never once letting him go from his embrace. He didn’t seem so bashful, now that they were kissing. Once on the bed, he pushed his hands under Tony’s clothes, mapping his back as his lips travelled on his face, his neck. He moved Tony wherever he wanted, Steve’s hands pulling his hips closer, flush into his groin like Tony weighed no more than the pillows he was laying on.

“You smell so good,” Tony tried to meet his thrusts in the middle, feeling Steve harden in his pants, “I watched that security footage maybe a thousand times, you know, tried to remember how it felt to be in your arms.”

Steve’s hips faltered, he moaned into Tony’s neck. He laid down, engulfing his body completely. It felt safe, Tony realized, being here, under this man who could probably rip him apart if he wanted, he felt safe the most.

“God, I am so fucking weak for you,” Steve whispered into his neck, pressing his nose in so hard, he must have been cutting off his own air, Tony thought. His hips continued their aborted little thrusts and circles above Tony, grinding their hard cocks together through layers of clothing.

Tony ran his hands through Steve’s sweat damp hair, tried to remember any other time he had been so turned on, so close to coming without even getting undressed. He just couldn’t. Steve on top of him, arms so tight around him, hands kneading his sides forcefully, Tony finally felt like the panic in him abate. He was safe. He repeated to himself like a mantra that Steve would keep him safe. And Tony would do anything to keep him here. 

“So weak,” Steve’s lips trailed his jaw with a gentleness that contrasted the vice of his arms, found his lips, planted little whispers of kisses, “I’d do anything for you. Anything.”

All Tony could do was return the sentiment, “Me too baby, Steve,” he panted, “anything baby, for you, anything.”

They didn’t even get naked. Tony fumbled with Steve’s sweatpants and his own zipper as Steve worried the skin of his neck between his teeth. He took them both into his hand but once he started touching Steve’s cock, he couldn’t bring himself to hurry.

He slowly jacked them both off, exploring in a way he never had before with any other partner. Steve was uncut. Tony’s thumb fit just right under his foreskin, so he pushed it there, rubbing the moist head. Steve shuddered violently above him, his chest rumbling against Tony’s. He was leaking so much. Tony wanted to taste him. Some other time, he promised himself. 

He wanted to catalogue it all in his mind, what made Steve twitch, what made him sigh, how he liked to be played with until he shook and came above Tony. And he came, he came oh so much. Just the feel of the copious amount of come on his hand was enough to tip Tony over.

They laid like that as they came down, Steve still half splayed over Tony, still sucking whatever skin he could reach and Tony playing with the frankly ridiculous amount of come soaking through his clothes, rubbing it into his skin.

“Don’t you worry about me,” Steve kissed his temple, once they found enough energy to leave the bed, “we’ll find a way. I know a genius that could help.”

Tony giggled.

They showered together. Laid in bed together, naked and skin to skin under too many blankets.

“I would like to draw you again one day,” Steve whispered into his ear as they were nodding off, “you’re so beautiful, always.”

\---

“You’ll get used to it,” said Tony as he took a sip of his coffee.

Steve squinted at the screen of his phone, “I don’t know. Last time I had a phone, they still had buttons.”

“Not a rotary?” Tony laughed when Steve shot him an accusatory look, “but look, this one has a button!”

“Yeah, only one.”

“It has,” Tony stopped for a moment, “it has four actually. Also, your boyfriend is a tech genius babe, you don’t have to worry about nothing,” he winked at Steve.

Steve blushed at that, “Yes, and he is making a- Ugh,” he laughed, “A computer that makes his coffee for him.”

“An A.I. Steve, the coffee thing was just an example. Artificial intelligence and all from scratch, I might add,” Tony took a bite of his cinnamon roll, “I have no idea why I thought I could mix like C++, Python and Prolog. It doesn’t even make sense.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I mean it would but, anyway, the compiler I made for that is trash now. That’s sad. But I’m working on a new one, the interpreter doesn’t even feel forced, would you believe it, making shit up is easier than trying to stick other people’s shit together and hope it would work, no offence but I have special make-shit-up powers,” Tony wiggled his brows over his coffee cup.

“Uh-huh,” Steve nodded to him, side of his face smushed on one fist, breakfast forgotten.

Tony shook his head, “You’re not getting a word of what I’m saying.”

“Well, explain,” Steve gestured in between them.

Explain. It was a thrill, even after it happened numerous times, to see Steve and the interest in his eyes. Explain. One word and Tony was ready to take a bullet for this man. No one ever, not even Obie…

Well, Tony was going to have to get used to not seeing Obie as the father he never had.

Tony shifts on his chair, “Okay, so, I am planning on making a- A security system, but also like, a smart house software but not like those that open and close your lights from your phone, something that will monitor the entire house, keep track of everything that comes in and leaves, connected to the internet and satellite and- Well, yeah.”

“That sounds,” Steve’s eyebrows creased, “vulnerable?”

Oh my God, Tony wanted to say, I love you, but toned it down for a still enthusiastic affirmation, “Yes, exactly, but for that first one would need to know the language of the program they’re working with, I am making one from scratch.”

“A programming language?”

“Yes, and no one can really hack into a system they cannot read. At first I thought I could just use, you know, already existing languages and just, playdough them together but that’s more work than I thought it would be, the operators, I mean, the parts that tell the code what to do and how to read commands, they all need to be integrated and then that turns into a language all by itself and ugh,” he slumped in his chair.

“So now you’re making a new one that can do all the things,” Steve gestures vaguely, “the other ones can do?”

“Exactly. I need a bootstrapped language- I mean one that is, like, written in itself, that can learn and adapt itself, if I can manage that, then I won’t have to make the code be able to read other languages manually, Steve, it will learn that by itself.”

“Wow.”

Tony preened under Steve’s sparkling gaze, bit his cinnamon roll, licking his lips showily. He was supposed to be used to being looked at but Steve’s attention was like no other. Tony had been high on his affection since last night. He knew he was putting things off, that they would catch up with him. He needed to go back to the mansion. He needed to make an excuse to Obie. He needed to-

Speak of the fucking Devil…

They both bent instinctively towards Tony’s ringing phone as Obie’s name lit up the screen. Cold anxiety coiled in his stomach, leaving no trace of the loving warmth of the day. Tony’s eyes immediately went to Steve, no matter what Steve said about not being worried about him, Tony’s fear was not for himself but him.

Steve was staring directly at the phone like his gaze alone could shut it up. His hand on the armrest of his chair was tight, fingers digging into the fabric. 

Tony took his other hand and placed a kiss on top of it’s scarred knuckles as he reached for the phone, “It’s all right baby. Steve?” He kissed Steve’s hand one more time, “Let me hear what he’s got to say, okay? I’ll make something up.”

Obie started talking the moment Tony tapped on accept. HIs tone was familiar. His worry was disgustingly familiar too. He recognized this voice and tone from way back. Had it always been this fake? Or was it Tony’s newfound distrust coloring his ideas. The call ended without Tony saying much about anything and Obie running over him with his words. 

At least him being out of it and somewhere else on a morning without leaving a notice wasn’t anything new.

“Stone is coming to dinner apparently.”

Steve lifted one eyebrow. His hand on the armrest was ready to rip apart the upholstery.

Tony wasn’t scared. He wasn’t. Not for himself, at least, “T- Ty’s father?”

“He allows that man into your house?” His hands went to Tony’s hands, then grabbed the legs of Tony’s chair, pulling him close. He buried his face into Tony’s legs, Tony could barely hear him whispering.

“I just got you, please, Tony. I just found you, please no.”

Tony put his hands into his hair, soothing, “Baby, Steve, lets go-”

“Tony,” Steve looked up at him. His face was stony as ever, but his voice was reverent. 

Tony looked down at him, he bent down, kissed his cheek. A pink blush instantly bloomed on Steve’s cheeks. Tony smiled for a moment, but then yesterday’s discovery came to his mind. His mood soured. 

He looked down at Steve, then took out his phone and reaching out, he took Steve’s out of his pocket as well. He closed both of them and threw them deep into his laptop bag. Just in case.

“I’m scared,” Tony whispered. 

He heard the legs of the chair scraping the ground as Steve clenched his hands. Tony shushed him, hands back in his hair.

“I don’t know what’s going on, I don’t know what he’s trying to achieve but I-” He sighed, “things have been weird at home since Ty died. I-”

Steve growled.

Tony suddenly straightened, “Steve, not here, come on.” He pressed another his to his brow, “Let’s go home.”

The walk back to the apartment had been tense but affectionate. Tony pulled up the hood of his hoodie just in case. Steve’s hand would momentarily get too tight around his shoulder, then he would realize and press a kiss to his head, whispering sorry into his ear.

It shook Tony; how careful with him Steve was, how gentle. He had seen Steve crush a man’s skull with his bare hands. Just the pull of his fingertips had strained the tacked and sown in edges of upholstery. Yet here he was, softly kissing his hair, holding him under his arm.

Tony couldn’t remember the last time someone held him like this, no other motive but to hold him close. Other than Steve, he could remember no one.

Tony looked up and studied Steve’s face as Steve maneuvered them through the crowd. All kinds of good looking people threw themselves on Tony, from models to actors to Instagram influencers but no one, not a single one of them looked as beautiful as Steve was to him. 

Steve with his straw blond hair translucent at the tips under pale sunlight, with his clenched jaw and icy blue eyes shadowed under his creased brows. 

And still, their hands were interlocked over Tony’s shoulder, where Steve had wrapped his arm over, and his hold was the gentlest. 

When they reached the apartment, Steve ran his thumb over his hand, brought it to his lips to kiss once before letting him go to unlock the door.

Once they were inside, Tony sat on the bed and took out his laptop to turn it off, then took out the battery immediately. Then he took out his little tool kit to take their phones’ solid frames apart to took out their batteries as well.

They needed to plan. They needed some kind of security net to fall back to. Tony had no idea why the hell Obie wanted him to be there for the dinner. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw Ty’s father. He couldn’t remember the last time Obie ever wanted him to be present for anything anywhere other than places where cameras were present. 

He tried to tell himself Obie could have moved or deleted the file simply because that kind of shit was incriminating to have. Maybe it had nothing to do with Tony. Maybe he had no idea Tony had ever been in his files. Maybe he really just wanted Tony to be there for a dinner with the father of his deceased boyfriend and that was all in his eyes.

Obie had used his you have a responsibility voice and maybe Tony was being paranoid but now that he had Steve.

Steve.

Beautiful, strong, caring Steve with napalm like temper, who was still at the door with his back to Tony, forehead pressed against the wood and hand trying to rip off the doorknob.

“Baby?” 

“He scares you,” Steve whispered.

“Yes.”

Steve slowly turned to him. Eyes closed and his forehead creased, he looked every bit the murdered who caved Ty’s head in. He took a deep, shaky breath. Let go of the doorknob. When he opened them, his eyes were almost all black, swallowed by the dilated pupils. 

The room was way too bright for that, morning light spilling in. Tony shivered.

“I really don’t like that.”

Steve came up to him, walking as if moving slowly was a challenge he had to win, then knelt between his legs. Tony’s hands found his hair. Steve looked at him with blown out eyes, he could see a muscle ticking in his jaw.

It wasn’t a sudden thing, images came to him slowly, detached. But he could recall seeing Steve’s eyes like this. He could remember seeing his face that first night, transmuted into a twitching mask with cold, cold rage. Mind transported to another dimension that called him to hit and smash and rip and burn. And he could remember it, however hazy.

He couldn’t remember being afraid.

He pulled Steve to himself, whispering, “Oh baby.”

Steve clinged to him. He buried his face into Tony’s stomach, hands bunching in his clothes. If he had been holding onto him, Tony thought, he would have bruised him already.

“Come on,” Tony said, pulling softly at Steve’s shoulders, “come to bed.”

They scrambled to lay on the bed in a tangle of limbs. Tony took Steve into his arms, Steve’s head laying on his chest, arms clutched behind him.

“I knew, you know,” Tony started after a while, shaking hands rubbing Steve’s back, “I knew he was trying to keep me out of the company. I knew-” He took a deep breath, “I didn’t care, I guess, I don’t know. I wasn’t going to fully inherit anything until I was twenty one anyway, so… God,” he chuckled humorlessly, “You’d think someone would be more worried about his godson’s cocaine addiction.”

That seemed to shake off whatever had came onto Steve for a second, he lifted his head, incredulous, “He is your godfather?”

Tony snorted, “Something like that.” He sighed, “To be fair, I don’t think when Howard left the company rights to him, he didn’t actually expect he would die before I made it to twenty one, you know. But, oh well. I think- I thought I was hiding it well but I think he knew about Ty long before. I think he knew how bad he was to me,” Tony shivered involuntarily, “I think he- They set me up with him.”

Steve looked at him, the fold between his eyebrows were back. Then he slowly leaned in and pressed his lips to the corner of Tony lips. They traveled along his smooth cheek, pressed against his ear. Steve whispered, “I’d say I want to kill him for what he did to you, what he let happen, but then again death would be too easy.”

He pulled Steve up, hand tangled in his hair and kissed him, hot and desperate, “Steve.”

Steve looked at him in the eyes, “I don’t want you to go there. Tony,” his arms got painfully tight around Tony, “I want to take you and run away. Go, anywhere but here, never let you get out of my sight.”

Tony trembled involuntarily. One side of him wanted that, so much. Fuck, didn’t that just sound like a dream? Leaving everything behind. No Obie, no Stone, no responsibility other than keeping Steve’s nightmares at bay at night. But that would also mean…

“And let Obie win? Take the company and do whatever he wants with shit that has my name on it?”

Steve’s entire body went rigid on Tony, “God. No. But I just-”

“Baby,” Tony ran his hands up and down Steve’s back as far as he could reach, “Let me go see what they want. Let me find out what they’re up to. Maybe it’s nothing. But if not, we have each other’s back, right?”

Steve buried his face in his stomach. He huffed, his warm breath penetrated thought Tony’s clothes, tickling his skin. Tony scratched his nails down the back of Steve’s head. Steve slumped. Tony knew he won this argument. 

He sighed, “Steve, worst case, Obie probably knows I looked at the video. They probably want me to know that they know I looked at the video. We’re going by that they don’t know who you are yet but if they really set their mind to it they will find out. Howard’s stuff about you is still somewhere in that house.”

“I’m not worried about myself,” Steve lifted his head up to look at him, his eyes were bleary, the anger was drained out of them, “I’m just-” He cut off, crawling up a little to give Tony a slow kiss, licking at his lips lightly, “You know what I’m worried about. If they wanted you out of the company once, they won’t stop now because their first plan backfired.”

Tony pecked his cheek, “I know.”

“Tony,” Steve breathed his name against his lips, “I used to live day by day. After,” he sighs, “everything. Everyone I knew died. their memories faded from everywhere but my mind, I just- The fucking rage- Sorry.” He apologized and squirmed, looking like he couldn’t find the words but Tony felt like he knew what was coming. He had accepted it already. I’m yours, he wanted to say, you can say it too. But he waited for Steve to collect his thoughts.

Steve’s hands tightened around him once more, “Drinking doesn’t affect me, even the most potent drug doesn’t stay in my system more than an hour. At first I tried running but that didn’t cut it,” he choked on a humorless laugh, “I tried boxing but it just reminded me of Bucky. Then again there are only so many underground rinks that will accept you after you accidentally killed two or three thugs in a row. I hid in plain sight, I could do that before you. But maybe the way I lived was killing me from the inside out,” he looked at Tony, eyes sparkling with unshed tears. 

He continued, his voice shaky, “I had nothing to lose. Before you. I- Now, the thought of them touching a strand of your hair makes me want to bash their skulls in, God. Tony, now that I have you, I cannot lose you. That’s,” he kissed Tony’s cheek lightly, a complete contradiction to the vice of his arms around him, “that’s the only thing that scares me in the entire world.”

Tony turned around to press his lips against Steve’s, ran his hands through his hair, “And I cannot lose you, God, Steve. I have to go back at some point anyway, both for my own things and Howard’s old files. Let today be it, I’ll see what they want, pick up some stuff,” he shrugged, “Easy peasy.”

Steve laughed, put his head in the crook of his neck, laid on top of him, engulfing Tony completely, “Let’s stay in bed today, until you have to- have to leave,” he sucked on the thin skin behind his ear, “give me this.”

Tony squirmed, “Anything baby, you can have anything.”

Steve dipped his hands under his clothes, stroking his back, strong arms lifting him and settling him back on the bed as his hands traveled. It was almost as if Tony didn’t weigh anything. His hipbone aligned with Tony’s crotch, pressing in, so he lifted his leg to feel Steve’s erection pressing on his thigh through their clothes. They both trembled.

Steve drew back, towering over Tony, one of his knees between his legs, pressing into his crotch. The blue of his irises were still swallowed up by the dilated pupils but the edge of his anger was gone, all that was left was fondness and arousal. 

“Wha- What would you like to do?” Steve’s fingers found the edge of his hoodie, fiddling with it. “You can have anything too, Tony,” cheeks pink, he averted his eyes, looking down at his own hands, “anything you want.” 

Tony caught his fumbling hands in his own, feeling the little tremble Steve gave. It melted his heart, filling his chest with some giddy warmth that Steve would be ready to kill a man one second but blush when asking for sex. Tony had sex. Or he thought he had. It wasn’t that he had bad sex before, he enjoyed himself. Or that no one ever fucked him slowly, taking their time. But it all had been a performance, a competition to see who would hold out the longest, who could pleasure the other well enough.

It was just that no one ever lit him on fire like Steve before. His personal fairytale superhero. 

Tony rubbed his thumbs over Steve’s hands, “Will you fuck me? We have time.” 

“Oh,” Steve shuffled closer, “really?”

Tony could see his hard cock bobbing up and down even through his pants as he moved, he hooked his fingers into Steve’s belt loops, “Yes. Yeah, come on.”

Steve opened him up slowly. Slicked his fingers with too much lube and laid his head on Tony’s ass, elevated by a pillow and watching as he slowly pushed his fingers in. Pulled at the rim. Caressed his insides. He ran his wet, hot fingertips down Tony’s balls and cock lightly then up again, pouring more lube right into his hole and plunging back in.

When he finally decided to get up and put his cock in, Tony was already at the edge of an orgasm, skin hot and too tight, everything oversensitized. It didn’t take more than Steve settling inside him fully for him to come, his cock hot and heavy against his insides, almost pressing his prostate but not quite.

Tony scrambled for Steve’s arm, holding his wrist right beside his head, “Steve, oh God, Steve, lay down on me, let me feel you please.”

“I can-”

“No! No baby, don’t pull out. Oh God Steve, just- Just give me a second.”

Tony had no idea how Steve found any purchase at all with his spread knees when he started to fuck him in earnest. Steve didn’t lift off of him. Instead he put his forearms to the either sides of Tony’s shoulders and pressed against him completely. Only his hips moved methodically, fucking into him in short but slow strokes. 

Tony slowly lost the time. Steve’s tempo never faltered. It felt like they actually been in bed for the entire day, Steve fucking him for forever now, but also as if he had just started. When he came for a second time, it was slow and long. Heat coiled in his belly, slowly spread around his body as his cock pulsed, pressed against the pillow under his hips with Steve’s weight. He shook, feeling the force of it in the back of his throat. He couldn’t breathe. 

Steve pressed his face into his shoulder as he came to himself, stilling in his ass, his breath was laboured, “Sweetheart, Tony, can I?”

It took a moment for Tony to register what he was asking permission for, “Yes, baby. Steve, come inside me baby, come on.”

Steve pulled out almost completely before fucking into him again. Tony clenched around him, his body still unresponsive. It only took a couple pumps for Steve’s cock to start twitching inside him. He slumped almost completely over Tony.

They laid there in a weird half sandwich until Steve softened. Tony giggled.

Steve pressed a kiss onto his shoulder, “What’s that?”

Tony shrugged as much as he could under Steve’s weight, “I’m going to feel you all night long.”

\---

By the time they had cleaned up and Tony was ready to leave, it was already dark outside. Which was acceptable for Tony, considering him being on time to any kind of commitment would have been very out of character.

He stepped out, rumpled and still bleary with an orgazm blush on his cheeks and walked a couple blocks before he hailed a cab. Cold evening air crept down his collar. He checked his phone but he had no notifications. That’s normal, Tony tried to reassure himself, not like him to pester after calling once anyway. Still, everything felt like an omen. Inside of the taxi smelled like dust and stale smoke. He buried his nose into his own collar to breathe in the lingering aroma of Steve’s flat. 

One dinner. He could make it. For Steve.

For all that he was stuck on false bad omens, he should have realized that Obie’s car was not in the driveway when he was leaving the taxi. But he didn’t. Tony paid the driver and got off, walking past Stone’s car and unlocked the door.

It only hit him once he let the door close after him, the bang echoing in the empty entryway, that the car hadn’t been there, that the mansion was too quiet for any of Obie’s show-off diners. Tony pressed his back against the door, unmoving.

“Obie?”

A voice came through the open doors of the sitting room to his left, “My son wasn’t supposed to die, you know.”

Ty’s father. Tony sucked in a deep breath. It felt like the air didn’t reach his lungs though.

“You were. You were supposed to die and Obadiah was supposed to inherit Stark Industries and we were supposed to merge. It was a foolproof plan, really. Though I think you know how that all went, right? I think you were there.”

Tony heard his muted footsteps on the lush carpet before the man himself appeared at the entrance.

“I heard you quit drinking since the accident, hm? If your psycho knight in shining armor hadn’t interrupted the little altercation between Ty and you, would you have quit just the same?”

Tony took a step back, away from him but no words came out of his mouth. Surely someone was hearing all of this right now. Cleaners, cooks… Somebody.

Stone continued, “Mind if I ask how long it would have taken you to drown in your own vomit? Ty and I had a wager going on, you know. I was willing to give you some more time, no lie; but he had said five months tops until you managed to kill yourself. That was before someone caved his face in, of course.”

Tony’s brain didn’t seem to click. He had been wondering. But wondering and hearing the truth so plainly were different things. One part of him wanted to reject the thought still. Obie knew.

No. Not only Obie knew but he had allowed it. He had allowed Ty to do whatever he wanted with Tony. Hell, he had encouraged it. They both did, Ty’s own father did. 

He wasn’t supposed to die. You were.

Fuck, Obie had been trying to kill him, “Where is Obie?” 

“Gone to deal with your new boy,” Stone started walking towards him, “He realized you looked at the video footage, you know. His own security systems are not too shabby either. We didn’t think you would go find that boy and lay under him too but oh well, you made it easier for all of us, didn’t you? 

“You’re a smart boy. I told Obadiah that if he played with your mind a little, you’d be confused enough, try to act before you planned everything through, you were bound to leave a trail. You hid the apartment thing well, I’ll give you that. We had to hire a detective, one of those guys who follow cheating husbands and shit, you know those guys. That and well, the curtains you ordered and their size. Cross searched with the apartments sold in the last couple of months around the town... “

Tony tried to tune him out. Think. So Obie had went to deal with Steve. Even if he had a gun, Steve could take down Obie. So Obie was either already dead or about to be. Which left him with Stone here. Stone was taller than him. Heavier than him. But kitchen. Kitchen was right behind Tony and Stone was too wrapped up in his monologue to realize Tony wasn’t listening.

He could take Stone. For Steve. Then only thing that was left would be that detective Stone talked about but that was for later.

Tony rubbed his clammy hands on his pants. He could take Stone but if someone came to check the voices he’d be fucked. If there was anyone in the mansion, at that. Stone was still droning on his villain monologue.

“Still, a merge with S.I. is not something I can just let go because you decided to turn your life around. I know you’ll understand Tony, business is business,” Stone grinned.

“And no one will question me disappearing because…” Tony took a big step back aligning himself with the island counter, Stone followed him in.

“Well people know how rowdy you can get, you got that part down for us. If an accident happens… After all I can do anything I want to you, boy,” Stone says, “no one will connect the dots back to me.”

Tony looked at him questioningly, but the plan was already formed in his mind, from the moment Stone started walking up to him, all swagger and confidence. He was close enough now.

“You think I don’t have an alibi? You think we didn’t disable the cameras in here? Let everyone out early like the benevolent employers that we are?” He chuckled, “No one,” Stone opened his arms to the sides, “no one saw me coming in.” 

“Good,” Tony said, grabbing a handle under the counter, where the cooks kept the knives they rarely used, the big ones, “then no one will question why they never saw you getting out.”

He swung the cleaver with all his strength but Stone caught up to his plan half way. Still, it was clear the moment a gleaming meat cleaver had lodged itself into his forearm to the bone, he had been expecting to be hit by something much duller. He screamed.

He reached for Tony, fingers closing on his shirt but it was clear that he was acting more out of reflex than with a plan. The pain had made him disoriented. Tony shook the cleaver free from the bone.

Stone screamed again, frenzied and cut off, but there was no one in the entire mansion to hear him. You and Obie made sure of that, Tony thought as he heard the bone give a wet crunch, thank you.  
Stone toppled over to the floor, taking Tony down with him. He had the advantage of his body weight but Tony was running on adrenaline. Stone made to grab him again with his good hand. Tony averted him and rolled to the side, shaking him off.

The moment he got up and got free, details rushed to him. Blood. Everywhere. Slick on the floor. Warm, covering his hands, arms up to his elbows. Soaking into Stone’s shirt and pants, his arm bent in the middle of his forearm at an unnatural angle.

Stone looked up at him. For a second he looked like he was about to say something. Tony, without hesitation, lifted the meat cleaver and buried it right in the middle of his forehead.

Stone twitched. Once. Twice. Then slumped into the pool of his own blood.

Tony wiped his hand onto his pants. Took out his phone and called Steve.

\---

“I hope you weren’t too attached to this guy,” Steve had said when he picked up.

“Tall, bald with a goatee?”

“Yeah, he’s kind of… In pieces already. And, oh! We will need more trash bags.”

“Nope. Not attached at all,” Tony had looked at Stone’s lifeless body, laying on the ground before him, “And tell me about it. Do you think I can dismember a body with a kitchen carver?”

Steve’s voice had immediately gone cold, “What?”

“While Obie was coming to you, Stone was waiting for me here,” Tony shivered, the fact that Obie had planned to kill him only now setting in, “He might have tried to kill me. I kind of might have buried a meat cleaver in his head. He might have pissed all over the kitchen floor, I don’t know.”

Steve had immediately left the apartment, coming over to deal with the mess, berating himself about leaving Tony alone. He had pressed his lips to Tony’s forehead, neck, over his pulse right at the door, engulfing him in his arms, “Never again, you’re not dealing with anything by yourself again.”

“Did you leave Obie there in the apartment?”

“It’s not like he can go anywhere.”

“But the smell-”

“I left an entire pot of Vicks boiling on that electric stove we never got to unpack, no one will ever smell anything but Vicks for the next decade in that apartment. Come on, we have cleaning to do.”

That had set off a series of events which Tony wouldn’t be able to make up if he tried to. 

It was funny, looking through women’s forums about how cool water and ammonia would take blood out of sheets and fill up a tub with water to soak two different recently dead men’s clothes while his boyfriend, who was a legendary war hero, dismembered and bagged up one of them downstairs. Funny how easy it was to get hospital grade disinfectants over the internet and get them delivered to their door. 

Funny how pigs went crazy for blood. 

They had went to three different pig farms over two weeks. Coolers in the back of a truck, shoes two sizes bigger on their feet. It was almost like the pigs had known they were coming, lining up by the pen in anticipation, their cute pink snouts sniffing the air.

“I think they know it’s me” had said Steve, his head hanging down in the dark. 

Tony had made a mental note about finding his hopeless boyfriend some new pig farms to cycle.

After they had bagged up and cleaned up everything in New York though, Tony had offered to go to Malibu.

“We’ll do a couple layovers. We’ll act like we were already gone. By the time someone gets suspicious we’ll have ten thousand alibis. I’m good at the show off boyfriend act, you’ll see.”

So they had packed up, Howard’s super secret super soldier files safely tucked away and went all the way over to Malibu. 

Steve had loved the constant sun, the warmth, laying by the poolside in a hoodie. Tony had started calling him Toasty.

He still did.

“Hey Toasty, Coulson called for the third time today and if I have to deal with his lovesick voice one more time I’m going to throw myself into the pool.” 

“He’s not lovesick Tony, also you know how to swim.”

Tony flopped down beside him on a lounge chair, “We’re really doing this Avengers thing, huh?”

Steve turned to him, laying sideways, “What else is there to do?”

Tony took in his face, barely there crow’s feet starting to settle around Steve’s eyes. One day Tony had found him in front of the mirror, late at night, smiling. He was periodically clenching and unclenching his face, eyes rapt on his own features.

“I have wrinkles on my forehead,” Steve had whispered, “I didn’t have them before.”

All these years and still, no one had connected them to the disappearance of Obie and Stone. Or the previous murders. Tony knew Fury had suspicions, since the day his kidnapping forced Steve to come out of hiding, to reveal himself as Captain America. 

Yes, that Captain America.

But they were just suspicions. Strong ones, Tony knew, but no real evidence. He also suspected that Fury knew about the things Obie and Stone had done, both to Tony and S.I. so maybe he, like him and Steve, just couldn’t quite bring himself to care.

And then the entire thing with Thor and his intergalactic daddy issues had happened.

He reached over to smooth the crease between Steve’s eyebrows, “You’re not doing this out of obligation or anything, right? I mean we can just- I don’t know. Stay here. Be free-range superheroes or something.”

Steve turned his face slightly to kiss his palm, “Yeah, I know. But I feel like it’s time. Time for us to get out there, take some responsibility. I feel like- I have a feeling this won’t be the last time the world will need us to be present, you know.”

Avengers Initiative. It would be fine. Steve and him, they would be fine no matter what. They had been laying low, staying quiet for so long, trying to figure out what they were. 

It had taken years to find their footing, with Tony taking over the company and Steve trying to let go of past hurts and them learning to be together after the initial high of their relationship mellowed. It had been good, back then, to just be the two of them as Tony Stark the genius and the C.E.O. of Stark Industries and his elusive boyfriend. 

But Tony felt it too. They were ready to go out there. Show their faces. Become Iron Man and Captain America besides just Tony and Steve.

He nodded, stroking Steve’s cheek, “Yeah, well, pick up your phone then, before Fury decides to invite himself over.” 

Steve groaned, turning away in mock indignancy. Tony laughed at his antics. They would be just fine.

\---

[Find me on Tumblr!!](https://arcadeghostadventurer.tumblr.com/)


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